


The Wyvern

by clicky797



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Minor Violence, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clicky797/pseuds/clicky797
Summary: “Tell me. Why is the mighty Wyvern always rushing to the aid of this cocky, idiotic flirt?”Not a day went by that Gerome didn’t ask himself that same question.Collection of random Superhero AU one-shots where Gerome is a superhero and Inigo doesn't quite understand the importance of keeping their relationship secret.Open to requests/suggestions for future chapters.





	1. Chapter 1 - Kinda-Sorta-Not-Really Boyfriends

“You made it!”

Inigo beamed at him the moment he walked through the door and into the dimly lit bar. Gerome sighed at the sight of his kinda-sorta-not-really boyfriend, who was waving him over to the stool next to him. Like Inigo had just invited him out for a casual drink, and wasn’t currently surrounded by a gang of burly thugs, one of which was holding a gun dangerously close to his head. 

“Sometimes I don’t know why I bother,” Gerome muttered. 

The door swung shut behind him, and the black cloak he always wore fluttered in the draft it created. The thugs tensed, and rightly so.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Inigo tutted, still grinning. “Come on. You won’t believe the drinks they have here! You wouldn’t think it looking at the clientele, but they have a literature-pun themed cocktail list. Look: Tequila Mockingbird! Isn’t that hilarious!”

“Extremely,” Gerome agreed, though his expression and tone said otherwise. 

Inigo grimaced. 

“Oh no. Are you mad at me?”

“Of course I’m mad.”

“But-”

A prod in the head with the barrel of a gun made Inigo fall silent. He glanced sideways at the thug who held it. Not afraid, merely angry at being interrupted. Gerome resisted the urge to smile. He was meant to be discouraging this sort of behaviour.

“Alright,” the thug hissed. “That’s enough chatter out of you.”

“Killjoy,” Inigo muttered, as he was held tightly against the thug’s chest, the gun never leaving the side of his head. 

Gerome’s eyes swept the room. He could see seven men, eight if he included the brute who was holding Inigo. He must have been the leader. The giant snake tattoo on his face was a dead giveaway. It was designed to look like the snake was about to shut its jaws over his eye.  

“Well, well, well,” the thug said. “You actually came. Looks like my informant was right. They said you always rush to the rescue of this one.”

He gave Inigo another prod. 

“Tell me. Why is the mighty Wyvern always rushing to the aid of this cocky, idiotic flirt?”

Not a day went by that Gerome didn’t ask himself that same question. What was it about Inigo that made him so desperate to keep him out of harms way? Besides the obvious: the younger man was a magnet for danger. 

The first time Gerome had the pleasure of saving him was in the middle of Ylisstol city. A car chase was in full swing, right in the middle of rush hour. Gerome, being Ylisstol’s resident superhero, The Wyvern, was following overhead, waiting for the right moment to swoop in and take out the armed driver. 

Most people could hear the gunshots a mile away, and had the sense to keep away from the road. But not Inigo. He wasn’t even looking when he stepped out onto the crossing, a coffee in one hand and his iPod in the other. Gerome was good at noticing when people were about to get hurt. He dropped down into the road, standing between the bluenette and the oncoming car. 

_Crash!_ The car crumpled the moment it struck Gerome. The robber in the passenger seat came flying through the windscreen, sending fragments of glass and splatters of blood into the air. He landed with a sickening crunch on the other side of the crossing, lying still like a crumpled doll. 

Gerome sighed. This was precisely why he’d been waiting. After several unsavoury articles about him in The Exalted Times and several Police warrants for his arrest, he was trying to be on his best behaviour. That meant not killing the dangerous criminals, if he could help it. But it’d been necessary to save the life of an innocent, which was always his top priority. 

He turned to check on the young man... only to find he was already on the other side of the road and was continuing to walk like nothing had happened. He hadn’t even looked up at the commotion.

“Hey!” Gerome called to him. 

The man still didn’t turn around. Gerome marched over to him, easily catching up. 

“Hey!” he said again, louder. 

The man pulled his headphones out of his ears and turned to him, looking irritated. 

“What?” he demanded. 

“Are you alright?” Gerome asked, too aggressively. 

“Obviously! Or I was until you came over and started yelling at me for no reason!”

“I’m not yelling!” Gerome fumed. “If I was yelling, you wouldn’t be able to hear it because your ears would be bleeding! Every window in the city would have shattered into a million pieces!”

The bluenette looked him up and down. He saw the black cape, the decorative armour, and the signature mask that every child had been wearing for Halloween this year. Recognition finally shone in his eyes. 

“Oh cool, you’re The Wyvern,” he said. “What are you doing here? Are you here to arrest me? Have I done something _bad_?”

His tone was now playful and a little... seductive. Gerome was sure his mask would hide his embarrassed flush, but the man simply lowered his eyelids and smiled like he knew exactly what he’d done. 

“I’m Inigo, by the way.” Inigo held out his hand to him. 

Gerome didn’t shake it. He never interacted with the people he saved. It was an unspoken rule among superheroes. 

“You know,” Inigo continued, not seeming deterred in the least. “It’s polite to say your name back when someone introduces themselves.”

Gerome could hear sirens getting near. He needed to make his escape. He turned from Inigo’s still outstretched hand and swished his cape dramatically. 

“Alright then.” Inigo shrugged, turning to go on his own way. “Maybe next time.”

Gerome said nothing. There wouldn’t be a next time. Ylisstol city was home to over a million people. The odds of saving the same person more than once was highly unlikely. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

The next month, Gerome found himself assisting in a bank robbery. The robbers had hostages, so the police couldn’t go through the doors. But that didn’t matter for The Wyvern. He came in through the roof. 

The first robber was crushed under the ceiling rubble upon his impact. His partner wildly grabbed for the closest hostage, holding him up as a shield with a gun to his head and...

“Oh! It’s you again!” Inigo said cheerily. 

Gerome was speechless. The robber was sweating. 

“Don’t come any closer!” he warned. “I’ll blow his brains out! So help me, I’ll kill him!”

“Will I get your name this time?” Inigo asked. 

“Shut up,” Gerome told him, searching for a way to solve the problem. 

In the end, he’d managed to distract the robber long enough for a police sniper to take him out. Inigo tutted at the blood that spattered on his shirt. 

“I just bought this,” he muttered. “It’s impossible to get blood out. Is that why you wear black? So you can’t see any stains? If so, wow! You’re strong _and_ smart. So, about that name...”

Gerome fled before the police stormed the building. It was just a remarkable coincidence, he told himself. It wouldn’t happen again. 

It did. 

“Are you kidding me?” Gerome exclaimed, spotting the familiar blue hair and smiling face in the middle of the ring of muggers. “Do you have a death wish? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I just thought it’d be a lovely time to take an evening stroll. Care to join me?”

It went on like this for months. Every time, Inigo was being attacked, or held hostage, or about to get killed by a freak accident. And every time, Gerome saved him, then left without a word. It was getting tedious. 

Until the time when Gerome was almost too late.

“You always seem to find me,” Inigo murmured, and Gerome could tell something was wrong because that idiotic smile he always had wasn’t genuine this time. “You’re not... stalking me... are you?”

He fell to his knees as blood started to soak into the side of his shirt. This time it wasn’t spray from the mugger who’d just gotten his arm broken by Gerome. It was his own blood. He’d been stabbed. 

“Inigo?” Gerome said, dropping beside him. 

He was surprised he still remembered the name. He’d only been told it the one time, when they first met. Inigo didn’t respond. His eyelids fluttered weakly. Something was humming in Gerome’s ears. _Panic_.

“Stay awake,” Gerome urged him. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

He could hear sirens approaching. They’d arrest the mugger and take Inigo to a hospital. How long would that take? Gerome knew he was faster. 

And so he broke the second unspoken rule among superheroes - never take injured civilians to the hospital yourself. The potential backlash of being too late and turning up with a dead innocent in your arms was too big a risk. It would turn the public against a superhero, and if a superhero didn’t have the public’s support, then what did he have?

But Gerome found he was willing to risk it. And he wasn’t too late. Inigo was given emergency surgery, and Gerome sat in the waiting room to hear if he would be alright. It was a bizarre situation - sitting in a white room, dressed all in black, with staff and other patients peering at you curiously and worrying that there was a bomb hidden close by or something - but he endured it. One nurse even fetched him a coffee, which he took black, of course. 

“You can go if you like,” she told him. “He’s going to be alright, so don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you,” Gerome murmured. “But if it’s okay, I think I’d like to wait until he wakes up.”

Once Inigo was moved to a room, Gerome took the chair next to the bedside and waited. It was the closest thing to a night off that’d he’d had in months. It was worth it when Inigo finally awoke, his bright eyes opening slowly and shining when he saw Gerome sitting there. 

“You stayed,” he said.

“Of course,” Gerome replied. “It seemed only right, after all the trouble you’ve gone to. Putting yourself in danger, just so you’d have an excuse to see me.”

Inigo chuckled, impressed by his teasing. 

“It worked though, didn’t it,” he grinned, and it wasn’t a question. 

Gerome was reminded of that terrifying incident now as he watched the thug with the snake tattoo adjust his gun so it was easier to rest against Inigo’s head. 

“I’m surprised at you, Wyvern,” the thug tutted. “I’d heard rumours that you were growing soft on a civilian, but even then I expected you to have better taste than _this_.”

Inigo gasped, delighted.

“Is that true?” he asked, eyes shining. “Are you soft on me? Does that mean we can go on a date soon?” 

“ _Shut up_!” both Gerome and the thug barked at the same time.

“So what’s the point of all this?” Gerome asked angrily. “To see if it works? Or have you just got a death wish.”

“Think of it as leverage,” the thug said. “We get what we want, and you’ll get what you want too.”

“And what is it that you want?”

Gerome never negotiated with criminals, but he needed the time to think. He was perfectly capable of taking out every person in the room, weapons or not. But he dared not make his move until Inigo was out of harm’s way. 

“In Capital Bank, there’s a secret vault hidden deep underground.” The thug licked his lips. “I want you to rob it. Bring me whatever’s inside.”

“Which would be?” 

“That’s none of your concern!”  
“Well, it kind of is,” Inigo chimed in. “He’s the one who’s meant to steal it. How’s he meant to do that if he doesn’t know what he’s looking for?”

“I swear, if you open your mouth one more time...”

That was the chance Gerome had been waiting for. 

The moment the thug’s eyes went to Inigo, Gerome rushed forwards. He could move faster than a bullet could be fired, but the thug didn’t even have time to look back towards him before he had the gun out of his hand. He crushed it noisily in his palm, like he was shattering a handful of nachos. Every face in the room went pale, except for Inigo’s.

And then the bullets began to fly. 

“Kill him!” the thug screeched. “Kill them both!”

Gerome had Inigo in his arms, holding him tightly against his body to protect him from the shower of bullets that were bouncing harmlessly off his back. They were making an awful mess of his cape though. Gerome dived for the bar, taking Inigo with him. 

“Stay down,” Gerome told him. 

Inigo nodded. It was remarkable, how unafraid he looked. Bottles were exploding on the wall behind them and showering glass onto the floor, while bullets chipped at the wood and thugs yelled death threats and vile words... and yet Inigo may as well have been lying on a blanket in a grassy field. He had a tender smile on his face and he was gazing at Gerome so softly... and Gerome definitely didn’t want to kiss him right now. Nope. Not at all. 

“Wyvern!” one of the thugs roared, and Gerome knew it was time to get back to work.

It didn’t take him long to knock out everyone in the room, except for the thug leader. He saved him for last. The thug’s eyes were wide as he stared around the room, at all his unconscious gang and their crushed weapons. Gerome stood over him, glaring him down behind his mask. 

“I-I’m sorry.” The thug fell to his knees. “I wasn’t going to... It wasn’t my... I was offered money. Lots of money. For whatever’s in that safe. There’s no way I would have-”

Gerome brought his fist down against the table next to them, and it collapsed like a house of cards. The thug flinched. 

“You’re so hot when you’re angry,” Inigo said, peeking up from behind the bar.

“Do you see that man there?” Gerome demanded, pointing to Inigo without lifting his gaze from the thug. “Take a good, long look. Memorize his face. Because you and your men aren’t going to go near him again. You’re never going to threaten him again. If any of you see him walking down the street, you’re going to turn and go the other way. Even mother birds don’t monitor their young as much as I watch over this idiot, so I’ll know if you cross his path. And god help you if you do.”

Gerome raised his fist, ready to break something else. But there was nothing left to smash. So he just let it hang in the air for a few moment, trembling with rage, and then lowered it back to his side. He adjusted his mask and straightened up.

“Inigo. Come. We’re leaving.”

“Finally.” Inigo beamed as he trotted to his side. 

But his smile faded when Gerome scooped him up bridal style, holding him close. He realised what was about to happen a split second too late. 

“Wait! No! We’ll take the stairs-”

Gerome jumped and they both burst through the bar’s roof. Inigo clung onto Gerome’s neck tight enough that a lesser man might have not been able to breathe. Gerome smiled. He could hear Inigo stifling the urge to scream at the sensation of flying over the city as fast as a jet. If only he felt the same way about other forms of danger.

“What’s wrong?” Gerome asked. “Don’t you like flying in my arms? I thought that was romantic? I thought that was what superheroes were meant to do with the people they’re dating?”

Gerome took pity on the terrified man and landed in a park not too far from where Inigo lived. He carefully pried his arms off of his neck. Inigo laughed nervously when his feet were back on solid ground. 

“Touché,” he said.

His blue hair had gone erratic from the wind. Despite still being angry at him, Gerome smoothed it down with an affectionate touch. The park was empty, so he didn’t need to be worried about someone seeing them.

“Now will you please try to be careful in future?” Gerome said. “You joke, but I really do worry. One of these days I’m not going to be fast enough or strong enough to save you. You could really get yourself killed, and that would...”

An image of the time he’d almost been too late came to mind, of holding Inigo in his arms while his blood soaked into his outfit. He was the fastest thing in the known world, stronger than a hundred rhinos lashed together, able to withstand just about any type of damage. But he couldn’t bring back the dead. And if he lost Inigo now, after everything he’d already been through to keep him alive... _That would kill me._

His expression must have conveyed his thoughts, because the playful light left Inigo’s eyes. He put a hand on Gerome’s arm, though Gerome couldn’t feel the touch through his decorative armour. 

“I don’t mean to do it,” Inigo said. “I didn’t leave home this morning thinking, ‘Oh, today I should get kidnapped by a bunch of bar thugs. That would be a laugh’. I just always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I’m sorry for it.” 

He looked down, licking his lips, and _gods,_ Gerome still wasn’t thinking about that kiss they were yet to have. 

“Maybe, if we saw each other a bit more?” Inigo suggested. “Outside of you saving me? Like, on actual dates and stuff. That might keep me out of trouble.”

Gerome felt like he was being coerced into a date through some form of emotional blackmail. But, as Inigo looked up at him and smiled shyly, he found that he didn’t mind. Maybe he needed the push to finally do this. It felt like it’d been a long time coming. 

“Thursday? Chinese food?” Inigo sounded hopeful, but also cautious, and Gerome realised this was the most afraid he’d ever seen him. 

“Sure. I’ll pick you up at 7.” 

Inigo blinked, clearly surprised, and Gerome used the moment to make his dramatic exit. With a sweep of his now-hole ridden cape, he dove back into the sky, slower this time, so he could savour the sight of Inigo looking up at him with awe. 

“Wait, you mean pick up in a car, right? We’re not flying. Right? _Right!_ ”

“Depends on how much trouble you get in before then.”

Inigo swallowed, and Gerome smirked. Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.


	2. Inigo can't cook at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short fluffy chapter. 
> 
> Thanks Grenha for the prompt - fire-fighter Gerome and Inigo who can't cook at all.
> 
> I've got a few ideas for future chapters but feel free to keep the prompts coming! :)

If there was one crime Gerome detested more than anything, it was arson. Fire was a pain to stop, and it also guaranteed that he’d have to replace his entire outfit. Inigo had suggested he wear clothes he didn’t like next time he tackled a blaze, but Gerome didn’t think the sight of him in ratty sweatpants and a hoodie would fill the people he saved with much confidence. Though it was an amusing thought that he’d be the only superhero to rip their costume off to reveal civilian clothes before rushing to someone’s aid. 

“But seriously though. Would it kill you to wear something else for once?” Inigo was standing at the kitchen counter in his apartment, trying and failing to peel a simple onion. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the black leather and armour. It’s so you. But for a date...?”

“It hasn’t been an issue before.”

Inigo gave him a flat-lipped look, though Gerome really wished he’d keep his eyes on that knife. He knew exactly what his kinda-sorta boyfriend was talking about. It was just his nature, as a superhero, to be evasive.

They’d been on several dates before tonight. Chinese food, a movie, a trip to the carnival that’d popped up on the edge of Ylisstol City last weekend. Each time, Gerome had turned up in his superhero outfit. And each time, they’d been subject to stares and gapes, worried glances and whispers behind hands that Gerome’s super-keen ears had been more than capable of overhearing. 

_“Isn’t that the Wyvern?”_

_“The Wyvern! What’s he doing here?”_

_“Who’s that with him?”_

There’d been some attempts by overzealous individuals to take photos, for which Gerome ensured Inigo’s face would not be visible. This was exactly the reason he’d always taken care not to have a personal life. There were already rumours that he was dating a civilian. He didn’t need photographic evidence as well. 

Besides being annoyed by the whole thing, a part of Gerome had been worried that it’d be too much for Inigo. That each date would end with him telling Gerome that, as nice as it’d been, he couldn’t handle the attention and danger that being romantically involved with the Wyvern brought. 

Yeah right!

Inigo was as oblivious to the stares as he was to the dangers that always seemed to be stalking him. All he’d been concerned about at the carnival was whether Gerome could win him an over-sized rabbit plush or not (which, of course, Gerome had).

Said rabbit was currently watching Gerome from Inigo’s couch, it’s big, flower-studded eyes seeing right into his thoughts and judging him. They’d decided to have their next date somewhere private, where no one could see them. Inigo had offered his apartment, and even said he’d cook them dinner. Only now did Gerome realise he’d made a terrible mistake in accepting.

He’d already known where Inigo’s apartment was. He’d known for quite some time. Before the dates, he’d started every night’s watch by standing on top of his apartment complex and listening for him. Depending on whether Inigo was in or not, Gerome could have a rough idea of how stressful a night he could expect. 

What he didn’t know was that Inigo couldn’t cook. _Shouldn’t_ cook. A smart villain could weaponize his curry sauce, and it’d be the one damn thing Gerome couldn’t defeat. His eyes were stinging behind his mask. The sauce was burning, but Inigo was too busy torturing onions to notice. There would be peel in the curry, that was for sure. And don’t even get Gerome started on how he was holding the knife...

“You could wear a nice black suit,” Inigo was saying. “And that way, you can still wear your mask as an elaborate accessory. I get that you need to keep the mask on. Secret identities and all.”

“Indeed.”

The rabbit’s gaze was beginning to make Gerome sweat, so he turned to the TV instead. Inigo had put it on the live news channel. Was it terribly wrong for Gerome to want a major, catastrophic incident to happen? Just so he had an excuse to flee from the impending dinner. _Yes_ , the rabbit’s eyes told him. _Yes it is._

“I know you can’t tell me who you really are,” Inigo said. “But what about other things? Like hobbies? Interests? Do you play sports? Instruments? Can you cook as well as I can?”

There were children stirring mud puddles in fields that could cook better than Inigo could. But Gerome just shrugged. 

“I’m a decent cook. I have to be. The Wyvern can’t exactly go to restaurants or get takeaway food delivered to his secret hideout.”

“You have a secret hideout?” Inigo grinned. “And here I was thinking you just hung under a bridge like a bat or something. Where is it? Underground? In a cave? Underwater?”

Gerome was tempted to tell him. Just so that he could host their next private date, and spare himself from Inigo’s cooking. But before he could decide, the TV screen turned bright orange. He snapped his gaze towards it and tried not to sigh in relief. 

A fire had broken out. On the other side of the city. Firefighters were struggling to control the blaze, there were fears of it spreading to the neighbouring buildings, and to top it all off, civilians were trapped on the top floors. Not the incident Gerome would have picked, but any would do at this point.

“Geez, that looks bad.” Inigo watched the footage, biting his lip. “You should probably go save them, right?”

“I should.” Gerome pretended to give Inigo’s curry a wistful glance. “Is that alright? Running out during a date, after all the trouble you’ve gone to.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Inigo insisted, already opening the doors to his balcony. Gerome wasn’t one to arrive and leave by the front door. “Go be a hero and save the day. Me and my cooking will still be here when you get back.”

Gerome hesitated. Gods, the only thing worse than eating Inigo’s curry would be eating it after it’d been sitting for hours, cooling and clotting. 

“But a blaze like that could take the whole night to get under control. And if it’s arson, I might need to track down the culprit too. So...” Inigo frowned, and Gerome felt guilt rise in his throat. The rabbit on the sofa glared at him. _You’re a terrible kinda-sorta boyfriend._ “There’s a chance I might not make it back tonight.”

Inigo’s shoulders slumped. But he could hardly say no when people were trapped.

“Do what you need to do. It’s just one of those things I guess.” Inigo shrugged and gave him a half-hearted smile. 

He followed Gerome out onto the balcony. Gerome hesitated. He should thank Inigo for understanding. He should apologise. He should suggest they try it again another time. Before he could say anything though, Inigo had leant towards him. 

“I hope you make it back,” he said, voice quiet, eyelids lowered. “If not... here’s a taste of dessert.”

He kissed him. 

It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was the first of this nature. The first one that said _come back_ instead of _farewell._ The first meant to entice. The first that told Gerome he wouldn’t need to return to his hideout that night.

Inigo’s lips moved slowly against his own, and when he pulled back, Gerome wanted to follow him. But there was an inferno blazing in the distance, and sirens wailing, and Inigo’s curry was still a viable threat. So as much as Gerome wanted to stand and gawp at the way Inigo’s hips moved as he sauntered back inside, or better yet - go in after him, he swished his cape and flew off into the night.

 

Fifteen saved civilians and twelve trips back and forth to the river with a large skip held over his head later, Gerome stood on a neighbouring building and surveyed the smoking remains of the fire. It hadn’t been arson, thankfully, and no one had been killed. The crowds who’d gathered had even cheered when he’d emptied that last skip of water over the final flames - a rare occurrence indeed. He’d had to flee when the police turned up, but that still didn’t dampen the cheers of his name. 

On the other side of the city, Inigo would have seen the whole thing on the news. He’d know that the blaze was out, and that Gerome should be on his way back. He didn’t know that there was no arsonist though, so Gerome had a good excuse should he not turn up. He thought of that molten curry, bubbling like a vat of toxic waste. He thought of the kiss that’d made his blood sing. He thought of the rabbit, judging him still even though he was out of its sight. 

In the end, it wasn’t any of these things that made him return to Inigo’s apartment. It wasn’t the promise of ‘dessert’, or his guilt, or that damn plush. Inigo was his kinda-sorta boyfriend. He’d stayed with Gerome through several truly terrible dates, and now Gerome would stay and eat his god-awful cooking. 

He did make one stop before going back though. He went to his hideout and changed into a black suit. Inigo had been right - the mask went well with it. He also made a bouquet from the wild flowers that grew on the slopes outside his hideout. Inigo had always struck him as a man for flowers.

When he landed on the balcony and stepped through the doors that’d been left open for him, he wasn’t greeted with the smell of burnt spice or eye-watering smoke. Inigo was sitting at the table, with two bowls of delicious smelling, perfectly edible curry. Gerome was immediately suspicious.

“Glad you made it,” Inigo said, giving him a sweet, palm-sweating smile. “Just in time too. The curry was about to go cold. Are those for me?”

Gerome gave him the flowers, and while Inigo went to find a vase for them, he eyed the curry. It was a completely different colour to the one Inigo had been preparing earlier. 

“What?” Inigo asked innocently, in return to his raised eyebrow. “This is the curry I made. Sit down, eat up, and don’t go near the bin.” 

And suddenly, Gerome realised he wasn’t the only one who’d been horrified by Inigo’s cooking. Now it made sense why he’d put the news on, and been so eager for Gerome to leave to save the day. Inigo knew his curry was abysmal. He’d just needed Gerome out of his apartment before he could run out and buy a good one. 

Gerome could tell all of this from the guilty smile Inigo gave him as he sat down. But he decided it would be better not to comment on it. 

“Nice suit,” Inigo said. 

“Nice curry,” Gerome replied. 

He’d definitely cook next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I find this AU really fun to write! :) Feel free to make requests/suggestions for future chapters. 
> 
> I also plan to update some of my other FE fics soon (especially Dance For Me). Sorry to anyone who's been waiting ages for the next chapter!


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